Max had been clawing at the crashed spacecraft for just a few moments when the rocking stopped. However, before it could be assumed that the worst had happened to the pilot, they each heard an unfamiliar voice. Perhaps 'heard' was not the correct word, for no actual sound had been made. Rather, it was as if the words were coming from inside their own heads, like thoughts, though clearly in a voice that was not their own. The speaker, if he could be called such, sounded authoritative but benevolent; it was a voice that one had the natural impulse to trust. However, he also sounded restrained, as if he had to put effort into keeping his voice calm and steady. It soon became clear why. Not far from Max, approximately two feet off the ground, a section of the craft's wall slid open. Light, mostly red and flashing, poured out. Then, in this light appeared a silhouette that seemed for all the world like a centaur. A six-and-a-half-foot tall, broad shouldered centaur. For a moment it stood there, before attempting to jump down. Having seemingly lost the ability to support its own weight, the creature crumpled to the ground upon landing. In the light of the full moon it was clear that the alien was far more bizarre than a centaur from some high fantasy book. He was almost completely covered in blue fur, for one; it grew sparse only near the odd slit in his face that seemed to function as a nose and on his relatively small, seven-fingered hands. His chest was almost human, broad and well muscled, though with two arms that seemed oddly weak compared to the rest of him. His body was about the size of a small horse, and nearly identical save for the odd fur and whip-like tail -at least half as long again as its body- that ended in a long, incredibly sharp, blade reminiscent to that of a scorpion's. One of the more distinctive features of his face was the complete lack of mouth. His ears were pointed and set high upon his skull. his most human feature was his pair of bright blue, almond shaped eyes. Though pained, they moved carefully between the faces around him. The alien had another set of eyes, on two short stalks on the top of his head. One looked every which way, alert. The other seemed to have been nearly crushed in the crash, now hanging limply to the side. That was not, by a long shot, the extent of his injuries. Large patches of his fur were matted with blue-black blood, and one of his hind legs seemed twisted at a rather unnatural angle. Despite his injuries, he still stubbornly attempted to pull himself back to his feet. He failed the struggle to stand back up, collapsing rather pitiably back to the ground.